Heart-Shaped Box
by LeggoMyMeggo92
Summary: Part 2 of Eliza Stark's story. Being normal went out the window a long time ago for Eliza Stark. Now that she's got control of her new abilities, she needs to try and build her life around something akin to normalcy. CapxOC, Post CA:WS through Age of Ultron. Slight AU Crossover with X-men, Sequel to About a Girl.
1. WhenIamWeak

When I am Weak

April 29, 2014

"You've got to be kidding me," Eliza said to her mentor, who was floating above the ground on a metal plate. The old man looked at her from under his bushy brows, his arms crossed across his chest.

"Hands in the dirt, my girl," he said through a smirk. The warm spring breeze lifted the ends of Eliza's hair as she sighed and stuck her hands in the freshly tilled dirt at her feet.

"This is disgusting."

"And necessary. You've made incredible progress in the last eighteen months, but once you master this technique you'll be practically unstoppable."

Erik Lensherr was a holocaust survivor and the recipient of a doctorate from Cambridge University, but he was also a teacher with unorthodox methods. Over the last year and a half, Eliza had learned from him how to control her abilities. She no longer sent pens flying through windows or accidentally crushed alarm clocks; or when she did, it was entirely on purpose. She'd gotten good enough to help Logan with his motorcycles - welding parts without heat, bending wrenches to better reach the hard-to-reach bolts, holding the entire thing aloft while Logan looked at the undercarriage.

But it hadn't come without a price. She had to sit helplessly by while her brother battled The Mandarin and Justin Hammer. She couldn't reach out to help Tony at all, even though she had begged Erik and the Professor to let her go. That had been a few months after she arrived at the school, and she was still too dangerous to leave. In response, she'd pulled the support rebar out of a statue in the garden.

Yes, she'd mastered every task and challenge Erik had for her. She'd made friends with the other staff members at the school, but she still felt like something was missing. She couldn't count how many emails she'd started or how many times she picked up her phone to text or call. But she always stopped herself. In the end, she couldn't expose this place. Not after everything they'd done for her.

Eliza had been appointed Professor Stark, and taught creative writing. Her students were , for the most part, eager to learn from her and she appreciated the small class sizes - there were only about forty students in the entire school, and she taught the upper levels so she had about fifteen students total. Much easier than teaching a 1000-level course at Columbia.

Eliza sighed, not seeing the point in sticking her hands in the ground.

"Do you feel it?" Lensherr asked. "All the metallic elements in the earth's crust?"

Eliza pushed her hands a little deeper. Indeed, she could tell there was aluminum, iron, a little silicon in the earth beneath her fingers. She nodded, keeping her eyes closed to concentrate.

"Good. Now pull them toward you."

"You want me to pull microscopic bits of metal out of the earth?" She looked over her shoulder at her mentor, an incredulous look on her face.

"Just try it, Eliza."

She sighed and refocused, calling the elements she could feel toward her. Little pinpricks started assaulting her fingers and she pulled her hands out of the ground. Instead of dirt, however, they were covered in a thin film of metallic elements. She bent her fingers and turned her hands over, marveling at the technique.

"Very good," Erik said, "Get more."

Eliza obliged enthusiastically, and this time drew her hands back in thick gloves of ore. She pulled the metal off of her hands and began manipulating it into different shapes - mainly defensive weapons. A spear, a sword, a shield.

A chill ran down her spine and she dropped the circular shield onto the ground, pausing for a moment. A large hand patted her shoulder.

"You are never helpless, Eliza, so long as you can find what you need." Erik explained. Eliza nodded and watched as her mentor dissolved the metals back into the earth. It was then that Eliza noticed the large circle of sunken grass around her feet. Charles would have her hide for that, she knew.

A head of flowing red hair appeared on the long veranda behind them, calling their names. Jean was slightly out of breath and pale, as if she'd just run a great distance. "Erik! Eliza! Something's happening in DC!"

Eliza's blood froze in her veins.

Steve.

Fury had told her, during one of his brief communiques, that Steve had transferred down to DC after Eliza left the tower. If Steve was in DC and something was happening, he was surely in the middle of it.

She was running past Jean before she knew her legs were moving, and she didn't stop until she'd reached the rec room. She pushed her way into the thick crowd of students and fellow staffers. Everyone's attention was stuck on the television, where she saw a helicarrier crashing into the Potomac.

"-news of the former SHIELD headquarters, nicknamed the Triskelion, appears to have been destroyed by one of SHIELDs own helicarriers. We are unsure at this time if this is anything more serious than a training drill gone wrong, or if this was some sort of attack -" Eliza half-listened to the news reporter's slightly trembling voice.

"Rebecca, we are getting reports of leaked information from SHIELD, it appears that it is uploading onto the internet via various sources, all of them from SHIELD servers-"

"Professor, do they know about us?" a student asked. Eliza couldn't look anywhere but the television, dread growing in her stomach.

"Are we going to be exposed?" an older student asked.

"Will they come for us?"

"Are we safe here?"

"I'm scared!"

Sounds of fearful tears reached her, but she didn't so much as blink until the television screen went black. Her attention turned to Professor Charles Xavier, who held the remote in his hand and held up his other hand.

"I will say this only once! We are not going to be exposed. SHIELD's fall is worrying, but the only person in that organization who knew where and what we are is deceased. I am confident our secret died with him. Now, if everyone would disperse I would like to have a word with the staff in private." The man in the wheelchair had a commanding, soothing presence and the sobs turned into sniffles as older students led the younger ones out of the room. Eliza squeezed the shoulders of some of her students as they passed her.

Logan shut the thick double doors after they cleared out and stood with his back toward them - ever the protector. Eliza looked around at the rest of the staff, her palms clammy. She could tell she was the most anxious among them.

"Director Fury is dead, then?" Storm asked from her position by the ping pong table. Jean and Scott were huddled together by the fireplace. Erik had taken a position behind Charles, a hand on his husband's shoulder. The sun shown through Hank's blue fur as he looked solemnly out the window, hands in his pockets.

"Unfortunately, yes. He did not survive the attack."

"So it was an attack?" Logan asked, crossing his arms across his broad chest. His usual tank top was smeared with grease and oil. He must've been in the middle of fixing one of his bikes when he got the news.

"I received intelligence from Fury just yesterday saying that HYDRA had infiltrated the organization, that he was sure they didn't know anything about the school or mutant kind at all."

"That's a relief," Scott muttered.

"A man is dead, Scott," Erik said, derision dripping off of every word.

"Dead men tell no tales," Logan muttered.

"That's enough!" Charles raised his voice slightly. He and Fury had been good friends, and Eliza could tell the Professor was a little rattled by his death. It was off-putting seeing a man of his calm demeanor like this, but grief manifested in strange ways. The old man composed himself, with a helpful squeeze and loving look from his partner.

Eliza looked away, a heavy feeling settling in her chest. Gods, how she wanted someone to look at her like that. To be there to help her through the tough times. She'd spent the last year as a guest in their house, had never felt unwelcome, but she'd never felt like she fit in wholly. Her first month she and Logan had gone on a date, but it was so horrendously awkward that both of them agreed to never try it again.

She glanced at the man with the metal fused to his bones. He looked at her as if to ask if she was okay. She nodded slightly at him.

"So what do we tell the kids?" Storm asked, concern etching her beautiful face.

At the same moment Charles opened his mouth to respond, Eliza's phone started ringing in her pocket. That was extremely strange, as the only people who had the number were all gathered in the room with her. She'd left her old Tony-issue phone back in the tower, and Charles had given her an old flip phone when she arrived so other staff members could reach her.

The front screen flashed a number she didn't recognize, but something told her to answer anyway. She flipped the phone open and crossed the room as she answered, nudging Logan out of the way. The hallway was thankfully empty of students and the annoying electric marimba of her ringer echoed slightly.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Eliza, you need to get to DC," a silken voice said. Eliza recognized it instantly as belonging to Natasha Romanoff.

"Natasha?" she asked.

"This isn't a secure line," was the woman's only answer.

"Is Steve okay?" she demanded.

"Get to DC. He's at Washington General."

And the line went dead. Washington General was a hospital in DC. Steve was in the hospital. But he was a superhero, he wasn't supposed to be in the hospital. He was supposed to be bulletproof, invincible, all that jazz.

Eliza turned on her heel and jogged up to her room, throwing some clothes in a bag and planning the quickest route to DC in her mind. It was spring break, so she could duck out for a few days. She had to see Steve, had to make sure he was okay.

A text from the same number came through on her phone.

'Renaissance file leaked.'

Renaissance. Project Renaissance. The project that gave her abilities was now on the internet for anyone to read.

"Fuck!" she swore loudly, packing faster.

She had some major damage control in her immediate future. The sooner she got to DC the better.

No one liked hospitals, of this she was sure as she breezed by security, flashing the badge Natasha had gotten her so she could visit Steve. They stank of stale disinfectants and cleaners to cover up smells of death and bodily fluids. They were always either too quiet or too loud. Perhaps it was the fluidity of life and death that made people uneasy. Natasha hadn't specified how bad Steve's condition was, but something told Eliza that if he was in the hospital at all it wasn't a good sign. A building had collapsed and he'd been involved somehow, all the pieces added up to it not being good.

She pushed the thought down and turned the door handle. Steve looked horrible. The screens on the medical equipment flickered a moment and Eliza's hands flew to her gaping mouth. Two, three steps further in and she could tell how pale he was. He had scratches and bruises on nearly every bit of exposed skin, tubes in his arms, a split lip.

"You must be Eliza," a voice said, making Eliza jump. A man about her age was sitting on the other side of Steve's hospital bed. He looked pretty banged up himself, so she figured he must be a new ally of Steve's.

"Yeah, Eliza Stark. And you are?" she asked politely, sticking out her hand for him to shake.

"Sam Wilson," he said, shaking her hand. "I guess you could call me a friend of the Captain's here."

"You guess?" Eliza asked, dragging the chair in the corner toward the bed.

"Well your boy here one upped me on a jog, came to a group meeting, next thing I know he's knocking on my door talking about secret organizations and how we gotta stop a lotta people from dying." Sam explained, obviously giving her the abridged version of the story. She could read more about it later. Or ask Steve when he woke up.

"Sounds like Steve," she smiled fondly at the sleeping man, "Making allies wherever he can."

"He mentioned you, you know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Said you were a big reason why he didn't feel entirely lost. But then you went away to wherever you went."

Eliza looked down at her hands, her face heating in shame. "I had to."

"That's what he said. Still hurt him though."

Eliza stood abruptly, "Do you want a coffee or anything? I need coffee."

"Look, I'm not trying to bust your balls -"

"Then put the bat down, man!" she half-yelled. "I just met you and you're laying a guilt trip on me? I know leaving hurt him, it hurt a lot of people. But I had to, I was dangerous!"

"And you're not now?"

"No. I'm not," she took a deep breath, knowing that both of them had blown this first impression. But Steve was a good judge of character, and if this man helped him with whatever fuckery was going on at the Triskelion he must be at least a decent guy. "I'm sorry. You still want that coffee?"

Sam nodded, "Black, if you please."

Eliza nodded and left the room on a coffee hunt.

When she returned, two black coffees in hand, she nearly dropped them both at the sight of Steve's blue eyes taking her in, a smile spreading across his face.

"Told you you had a special visitor," Sam said, rising from his chair. He grabbed his coffee from Eliza. "I'll let you two catch up. Thanks for the java, Miss Stark."

"N-no problem," she stuttered, remaining where she was until the door shut behind her.

She'd imagined a thousand scenarios of how they would meet again; come up with a thousand things to say. Most of them were exceptionally clever. Now that it was really happening, though, her mind was a blank. All she could think was how happy she was that he was okay. He was sitting up and smiling and the room seemed all the less dreary for it.

"You know," he started, the smile still on his face, "If I'd known it would take a building falling on me to get you to come back I would've done it a long time ago."

Her eyes brimmed with unwelcome tears. "Hey you," was all she could manage.

"Hey," he said back, his voice soft. Then Eliza heard the music playing - Marvin Gaye's Trouble Man - and she couldn't help but chuckling. Sam had chosen wisely. Steve was definitely trouble, but trouble worth having. She suspected Sam already knew that.

She brushed the tears away. "I'm really glad you're okay."

"Me too."

"How've you been? I mean, before all this obviously," she asked, sipping her coffee. She'd forgotten how All-American he looked. Blonde hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders. All things a girl could swoon over, and if the internet was any indicator, they definitely did.

"I've been okay. Fury kept me busy." That seemed like all she would get out of him for now, and she understood. He must be on enough medication to sedate an elephant with how fast his metabolism burned through things.

"That's good," she offered.

"You?"

"I've been good. Look what I can do now," she said, lifting the three metal IV stands around him in the air a bit before letting them drop gently to the ground.

"You're giving me flashbacks," he chuckled, "Looks like you've been working hard."

"I have been. Found myself a mentor and -" her phone buzzed in her pocket indicating a text message, but she ignored it. "Studied hard. I'm way past tossing things out the window. On accident, that is."

Steve yawned through a laugh, "That's great, Eliza."

_Eliza._ Hearing her name pass his lips like that reignited something inside her chest. Something that longed to reach out and grab his hand, touch his face, run a hand through his hair. Another part of herself said that it wouldn't be appropriate. At least, not until they could actually have a talk about all that happened. Maybe Steve had found himself a girlfriend? It had been nearly two years since they'd seen each other and his godlike looks didn't seem to repel women - again, see the internet.

She settled for resting her hand on the railing of the hospital bed, the other still clutching her coffee. "Thank you, Steve."

He yawned like a lion, "I don't remember the last time I was this tired. Or in this much pain."

"Want me to get a nurse?" Eliza rose to her feet, but a calloused hand with purple bruised knuckles on top of hers stopped her.

"No, I think I'm gonna go back to sleep for a bit though," he said, looking up at her almost shyly. "Will...will you stay? Until I fall asleep, that is, not the whole night or anything."

Eliza couldn't help the smile that blossomed on her face, "I'll stay as long as you want."

Sam Wilson returned to the room about an hour later, having finished his coffee and struck out with seemingly every nurse on shift. He smiled to himself and backed out of the room when he saw the two of them, him asleep on his bed and her on the chair Sam had occupied, fingers entwined through the bed railing.

He'd been able to tell, even in his short acquaintance with Captain America, that the super soldier had been carrying a torch for the MIA billionairess. Now that she was back, Sam hoped, maybe Steve wouldn't be so eager to dive headfirst into danger.

But deep down Sam knew that was bullshit. The two of them together would probably only make more trouble.

Shoving his hands in his pockets and turning on his heel, Sam Wilson whistled "Trouble Man" and made his way back down the hallway.


	2. Hey Wait

The studio lights burned her retinas. She felt like her face was shellacked into place and her hair was stiff as a plank. But she had to do this. She had to go on stupid Wake Up USA to address the leak of Project Renaissance.

The sound guy finished affixing the mic to the collar of her jacket as the assistant producer approached her.

"Alright, Miss Stark, when we come back we'll be going to you. Do you need anything? Water, coffee?" The young man asked in a nonchalant tone. He worked for one of the most watched morning shows in the country, so he met new celebrities every day. It helped, actually, that he wasn't fawning over her like some people did. Made the situation more normal - well, as normal as it could be.

Due to her last name and fame-seeking brother, Eliza was no stranger to the spotlight. She'd simply chosen to avoid it as much as possible. Now, it was unavoidable. Ever since the news broke about the project the media had made some pretty insane assumptions about her. That she'd grown wings, that she was dead. It had only been a few days, but she knew she had to do damage control if she wanted to maintain even a semblance of normalcy in her life.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," she dismissed him as someone in the background called a thirty second break. One of the hosts of the show, Jeremy Something-or-other, made his way over to the comfy chair across from hers.

He didn't say anything to her, just adjusted some note cards on his lap and chatted quietly to the AP.

"Five seconds back," someone said and Jeremy snapped to attention, looking directly into the camera with the big '2' on top of it.

"We're back with a very special guest, sister to the one and only Iron Man, Eliza Stark. How are you today, Eliza?" He asked, addressing her for the first time.

Eliza plastered a smile on her face and replied, "I'm doing well."

"So Eliza, if I may be frank, you're here today to discuss the file that came to light with your name involved," he said.

"Yes, Project Renaissance."

"So you admit your involvement?"

"Jerry, that experiment is the only reason I'm alive today," she said, matching his condescending tone with one of her own, "So yeah, I guess you could say I was involved."

"What exactly was the experiment?"

"Exactly what it says in the file. It's on the internet for all to read."

"Yes, but I'm sure you're aware that the CIA has been cleaning up the mess that Black Widow made by redacting and, indeed, removing much of the information that leaked," he said, his pen held as if poised to take down her response.

She straightened. This little man with his gelled hair and spray tan wouldn't intimidate her. "And I'm grateful for that. The file contained some very personal information, which is none of the public's business."

"The goal was to create genetically predestined super soldiers, correct?"

"Correct."

"And are you a supersoldier now?" He asked with a smile, his tone suggesting playfulness that Eliza didn't reciprocate. Sure, she was pissed at Natasha for releasing SHIELD records, but it was a necessary move. This wasn't a time to be coy or playful. HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD and, according to the recently released file on Project Renaissance, had tampered with the serum Eliza had been injected with.

She returned his playful smile, making sure to add an edge to her tone, "That's none of the public's business."

The host raised his eyebrows, "You don't think the public deserves to know if there's another enhanced human being strolling around the streets of DC?"

"I think it's my personal medical information and I didn't consent to having it released."

"I understand that, but was this experiment successful?"

"If you're asking whether or not I am a Captain America clone, you can clearly see that I'm not. I don't have super strength or a deep sense of patriotic duty."

"So Project Renaissance had no effect? It was a failure?"

"I'm not saying that," she answered tersely, refusing to give another inch to the pompous man sitting across from her. He questioned her like a bad lawyer during cross-examination - did he even prepare for this interview at all, or was he just trying to rattle her?

"Alright, I'll let you keep your air of mystery. Speaking of supersoldiers, you were seen at Captain America's bedside multiple times this week. Care to explain that?"

"Captain Rogers and I are friends. I was visiting a friend in the hospital."

"You two were also seen together quite a bit right after the Battle of New York, is there something between the two of you? Something romantic, perhaps? Love among the super-powered?"

"I thought this was a news program, not a gossip column," Eliza snapped. Her friendly smile fell from her face and she was ready to put up her dukes. Pepper had warned her to stay calm on television, to not let the host goad her or press her buttons.

"And we thought you were an author, not a super soldier."

Too late.

"I am no soldier, seeing as how I have no military record." Eliza declared, staring at him with as much ice as she could muster. The newscaster shifted uncomfortably, but maintained his stiff smile.

"Miss Stark, thank you so much for coming," he said, the segment ending.

"Thanks for having me." If her words had been knives, she'd have cut him to ribbons. Her lips curled into a self-satisfied smile and the Executive Producer shifted the focus back to the main anchor desk.

"So, really, off the record," the anchor asked, trying to seem nonchalant, "do you have superpowers?"

"Go fuck yourself," she said simply, plucking the mic off of her lapel and rising to her feet. She tossed the mic pack on the table in front of her and didn't care that she looked like a drama queen as she strode out of the studio, her heels clacking as she went.

The elevator doors opened and revealed her brother, leaning casually against the back and clapping his hands.

"Excellent performance, Lize, if you're not nominated for an Oscar I'll be shocked - shocked!" he taunted as she entered the elevator and pushed the appropriate button.

"The first time we see each other in almost two years, and those are your first words?" she taunted back, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

He didn't hesitate in throwing his arms around her, pulling her to him. She didn't miss the look in his eyes. It was the look he'd had the morning after their parents died; deep, unflinching pain beneath a flicker of relief - relief that she was okay, that she was still breathing and whole.

"I missed you, Tony," she said, returning his hug with equal fervor. Indeed, she had missed her brother while she was away. She had wanted to contact him so many times, but couldn't think of anything to say or any way for him to not trace the call.

Another big part of it was the fact that she now remembered the night their parents died with unpleasant clarity. She knew a detail about that night that Tony would never know, that she didn't want him to know. Not until she'd figured out what it meant first.

"Oh, kid," he said into her hair, "you have no idea."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

The siblings went back to her hotel room and ordered an extravagantly expensive lunch from room service. While they waited, Tony pulled out a Stark Pad and began casting files all over the room. Eliza recognized them as a bunch of files from SHIELD's records, unedited and copied directly from the web.

She poked the air in front of her, browsing through some of Natasha's more devious deeds when Tony called for her attention.

"Eliza, look at this," he said. His tone was calm, but when she turned to face the holograms on his side of the room she could see the worry creasing his face. He looked old for his age.

She scanned the open file hanging in the air until she saw a familiar name and face.

WANTED

ERIK LEHNSHERR

DEAD OR ALIVE

The photograph was from when he was a young man, and he wore some sort of helmet that covered his hair and the sides of his face. He looked...villainous. His kind blue eyes held a fire that she'd only seen in him a handful of times.

She read through the description as fast as she could. Newspaper articles about the shooting of JFK, how he was imprisoned and then escaped with help. Words like, "mutant rights" and "terrorist" sprang out at her until she found a video clip. She didn't hesitate in playing it.

The young version of Erik was soaring above a crowd in a packed stadium, his hands outstretched as if he were proselytizing to them. It was an old film strip, so she couldn't hear what he was saying. He stopped a bullet in its tracks, said something else, and then closed his eyes in concentration. A second later, the stadium started shifting. People panicked and ran, but Erik kept at what he was doing. The stadium lifted, giant cracks quickly became jagged smiles of broken concrete with silver rebar teeth sticking out at odd angles.

Once the stadium was about ten feet off of its foundation, Erik pushed it laterally and she paused the video. She didn't want to see what happened next; she had a sickening feeling that she knew what happened. What his goal was. She'd caught glimpses of it in their training, but she never thought he would be capable of this.

"Thirty five people died that day," Tony said, pulling her back to the present, "All because some guy with superpowers and a God complex decided he was superior."

Eliza whirled on her brother, heat boiling in her veins.

"He's not like that. There has to be an explanation for this," she insisted, more to herself than Tony.

"So this is the guy who's training you?" Tony asked. His hazel eyes had narrowed on her and she could see him running the numbers in his head.

"Yes, but he isn't like that. Not anymore."

Tony sent her a doleful look, but shrugged and flipped his hand, changing the display to a recent photo of the mansion. "Suppose he's gotta have changed if he lives with all those kids."

Eliza's blood ran cold. He knew about the school. No one was supposed to know except Fury.

Tony continued without her response. "Fury sent me the coordinates before he," he said raising his hands to make air quotes, "died."

"You don't think he's really dead?"

"Sneaky fucker like Fury? Hell no. Probably holed up somewhere waiting for the dust to settle."

"You can't tell anyone about the school, Tony. Not Pepper, not Happy, no one. If that information fell into the wrong hands-"

"I get it, don't tell HYDRA where they could find a bunch of little test subjects. Good plan."

"I'm serious, Anthony," Eliza said sharply, gripping his forearm with all the strength she could muster. "No one knows."

"May I say two things, Elizabeth? First of all, ow," he said, ripping his arm out of her grasp, "You've got some mad grip strength. And two, I'm not going to endanger a bunch of kids. This doesn't go past this room. I just thought you would like to know the truth about your mentor."

"Well thanks for sharing." With a long sigh, she collapsed on the edge of the king bed and fell backward, letting her feet dangle. Her chocolate brown hair splayed out behind her and she played with a strand of it like she usually did while deep in thought.

Thirty-five people died in that stadium. Erik had been protesting, but for what? Mutant rights, she remembered from the file. For a brief moment, she had to admire the cover-up work done by SHIELD or the CIA or whomever had been assigned to that. No one, as far as Eliza knew, used the term 'mutant' on a regular basis unless they were a biologist or worked on a certain reptilian television show. Mutant humans were invisible - and many preferred it that way. For what rights was Erik protesting? What were his demands?

Thirty-five people had died for those rights, and she didn't even know what those rights were.

And Erik - her mentor, the man who helped her understand her gift and embrace it wholly - was responsible. Even if it had been covered up, even if no one ever mentioned it, it had still happened at his behest. He was responsible for the deaths of thirty-five people. And he'd never said a word about his terrorist past to Eliza. Sure, he had mentioned a "wild youth" in the sixties, but it was the sixties. Every young person from that era claimed a wild youth.

Maybe Erik's wild youth involved more crushing buildings rather than pot and free love.

"You think you know someone," she said bitterly, turning on her side and rubbing her stomach as if she'd just gotten punched there. Indeed, she felt a little queasy and regretted the noontime champagne.

"Are you going back? Once you're done here, that is," Tony asked gently, much to Eliza's surprise. With how angry he'd been at her leaving the first time she expected a little more fight out of him.

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

"How long do you think you'll be in town?"

"Not much longer. Steve gets out of the hospital tomorrow morning. I was going to help him settle into his new place."

"You mean his old place?"

Eliza smirked and propped herself up on her elbows. Since his apartment had been blown to smithereens and SHIELD wasn't a thing anymore, Steve was moving back into Avengers Tower in New York the next day.

"Yeah. I'm borrowing that sick new Tesla of yours to drive him up there."

"Look out, Manhattan, Eliza Stark's got a vehicle!"

"I resent that. I'm an excellent driver."

"Yeah, just ask my Maserati," Tony sat next to her on the bed and nudged her with his elbow.

"That was one time!" She shoved him back. A smile pulled at the corners of her lips and warmth spread through her heart. No matter that they hadn't seen each other in nearly two years, hadn't even spoken to each other in that time, but they were right back to being Tony and Eliza; Stark Siblings Against the World. It comforted her in no small way to know that Tony would always be there for her, even if she hadn't always been there for him. A pang of guilt hit her unexpectedly.

He'd been struggling after the Battle of New York. She knew it, yet she left anyway. She couldn't help him with the Mandarin or at any point over the last nearly two years.

But that was the thing about sibling relationships. No matter what hits they dealt each other over the years, at the end of the day they were still siblings and the only family the other had.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

"Me too," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_The Next Day_

"I think I need to tell you something," Steve said after twenty minutes of silence. They hadn't even gotten out of DC yet, but things had been awkward since the two of them realized they'd be in the car together for the next four hours and two years between their last kiss and now.

"Okay, shoot."

"I think we should play one of those car games."

"Car games?" Eliza looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Like what?"

"Oh come on, you know! Car games! I spy, the alphabet game, zilch dog!" Steve's still bruised face lit up and he smiled at her.

"You're from New York, what do you know about car games?" She asked, entering the exit ramp.

"Bucky bought an old clunker and we went up to the Catskills one summer. One of his girls made us play all kinds of silly games."

"One of his girls?"

"Yeah, he always had a couple hanging around."

She noticed his gaze went out the window, a slight melancholy darkening his earlier brightness.

"I take it he was a ladies man?"

Steve sighed lightly. "He was. But he's not anymore."

"I-I'm sorry Steve. Did he pass recently?"

"I wish he'd passed. It'd be a kinder fate."

Eliza was shocked at the darkness in his tone. Not that he was all star-spangled happiness all the time, but this was the first time she could remember that his tone, his manner, was this bleak.

"What happened? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but we've got four more hours on the road and the car games will only go so far-"

"Bucky is the Winter Soldier. He's been...corrupted by HYDRA. Used for years to do their dirty work. If I'd've been here I could've stopped it-"

"Oh, Steve, no. It's not your fault."

"I could've gone back for him, found him in the mountains-"

"Steve, stop!" She yelled. "I know you carry a lot of guilt, but so does everyone! You know about it now, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, you know about it now, and we can try to help him."

Steve paused and focused on her for a second. "We?"

Eliza felt a blush creep up her neck, feeling silly that she'd let a 'we' slip. As far as she was aware, they weren't a 'we' even back when there was a possibility of that, however slight it had been.

And there was the school to think about as well. Eliza hadn't made a decision on whether or not to go back yet, but Charles was expecting her back the day after tomorrow. The lump in her throat had yet to abate, and throbbed every time she thought about what Erik had done, who he'd been. A terrorist, she'd learned how to control her gift from a terrorist.

The lump throbbed as she pushed harder on the gas, passing the outskirts of DC and onto the open highway.

She gave a bitter laugh and ran one hand through her hair. "Your best friend turned into a terrorist, my mentor was a terrorist. Small freaking world."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to get into it."

"Does it have anything to do with where you've been hiding for the last two years?"

She pursed her lips and her jaw tightened. "Yes. But I can't talk about it."

"Understandable. Are…" he stopped himself and ran a hand over his mouth as if he wanted to hold the words in.

"Are what?"

"Are you...going back there?" He asked in a small voice. Eliza glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and noticed that his hands were fidgeting in his lap, picking at his nails.

He was nervous. In truth, the question made her nervous too.

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as the lump throbbed again.

"I don't know," she answered as honestly as possible. "I have...obligations there, but knowing what I know now about - well, about my mentor. And I miss my life here, but I can't just skip out on my-" she caught herself, "obligations."

"I guess I can understand that," Steve said before muttering something under his breath. Though she was curious, she decided to let it go.

A while later, each of them thoroughly embroiled in their own thoughts, Steve sat more upright from his crouched sulking position.

"Eliza, pull over," he said, gesturing to a car pulled over half-in and half-out of the shoulder. Eliza did, and pulled the Tesla up behind the other car.

Steve got out before the Tesla fully stopped, Eliza close behind. A short older woman touched next to the passenger wheel of the small Honda, struggling with the lug nuts holding on the flat tire.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Steve asked, voice rising above the noise of the light congestion of the highway.

The woman looked up and Eliza immediately noticed her red-rimmed eyes, the lightly running nose, her shaking hands. She was absolutely frazzled, but she looked at Steve with a gaping-mouth recognition.

"You look like you need some help," Steve said, extending a hand down to help the middle-aged woman to her feet. God, he might as well have been wearing a suit of armor and riding in on a white horse. Whether the woman's stare was because he looked like a Greek god or that she recognized him as Captain America, Eliza couldn't tell.

"I-I do," the woman said with a light North Carolina accent. "I was on my way to New Jersey from Newport to visit my daughter - she just had a baby, my first grand baby, and I must've hit some glass or a nail or somethin', now I can't get the damn bolts out -"

Steve held up his hand, "We can help. What's your name?"

"Mariann, Mariann Doolittle," Mariann said, hugging herself as Steve lightly pushed past her and began to assess the bolt situation.

Eliza could tell that the heads of the bolts were old, the steel rusty and about to give way. Steve lifted the wrench to one of the bolts and Eliza put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, "Wait, let me. You go talk to her."

Using the wrench to disguise her powers, Eliza pulled the bolts out and replaced the tire with nary a muscle strained. Luckily, the new tire came with a few new bolts that should last her a while. The new tire in place, she motioned for Steve to take the old one and put it in Mariann's trunk.

The woman thanked them profusely and offered to pay for their help, but Eliza staunchly refused. She did, however, have Jarvis take a note to remind her to send a new car to Ms. Mariann Doolittle of Newport, Virginia.

"How did you do that?" Steve asked when they got back in the car and took off.

"I've got the power to control metal, remember?" Eliza smirked over at him.

"I meant how did you do that without breaking several of her car windows?" He smirked back.

"Training. The time I spent away wasn't for nothing, Steve."

Steve settled back into his seat as Eliza accelerated. "Clearly not."

They were an hour and a half outside of New York, and the tension between them had all but evaporated.


	3. WhenYouTurnBack

'Dear Professor,

I am writing to inform you that as of May 13th, I will be resigning my position at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. I have greatly enjoyed my time at the school, and I can never fully repay what you and your staff and students have done for me.

I have not made this choice lightly, and I hope you can understand my decision.

Sincerely,

Eliza Stark'

XXXXX

Rain pattered against the window of her room. Eliza glanced at the clock to her left; it was past midnight. She knew she should go to sleep, but she wrote better in the wee hours of the morning. At least, that was her excuse for being up so late. She didn't want to think about the fact that this was her last night at the school, and the twinge of pain that came with the thought of leaving all the incredible people she'd met behind.

But, like she'd told Charles, it was her time to go. Her life had been waiting for her in New York. Her brother, her publisher, her friends.

Eliza tapped the pen against the sheet of paper in front of her. It was as blank now as it had been for the last several hours.

_"You're a powerful mutant, Eliza."_

Erik's words from earlier in the week haunted her. She'd finally gotten up the courage to confront him about his past.

_"I was young, and angry. Those were…very different times. And I was a very different man. I was full of anger and pain and rage."_

He'd explained his motivations, how he wanted to make the world wake up and realize that mutants walked among them. That humans were not alone in the universe – that more powerful beings existed.

_"But they wouldn't listen. Instead they put me in a plastic prison until the early 1980s, when your father and Charles gave me this," he'd motioned to his neck, "entirely plastic tracking device. I've been on house arrest ever since."_

_"You knew my father?"_

_"Of course I did. Quite fascinated with mutants, he was. He helped Charles upgrade this house to make it what it is today. He gave me something, once, I think he'd want you to have it now."_

From his desk, he produced a glass cylinder, about a foot in length, with metal caps on either end. Eliza didn't have to guess what was inside – she knew vibranium on sight.

That cylinder sat on her desk, within her grasp. She glared at it like it was taunting her. In a way, it was. When she tried to manipulate it, the metal wouldn't budge. Erik had admitted that it had taken him a while to be able to work it into different shapes. Vibranium was a strange metal, not as straightforward as iron or as workable as steel. It felt like it was actively resisting her, almost like it had the personality of a stubborn teenager.

_"Your last step, Eliza, is to master the vibranium. Do that, and there's nothing else I can teach you."_

That afternoon, between her last classes with the mutant teens, she'd tried in vain to coax the solid metal out of the glass cylinder. It staunchly refused.

Now Eliza stared at it, noticing how it glowed lightly blue.

A knock at her door startled her out of her concentration. She crossed to the door and opened it to reveal Logan standing on the other side.

His hair was a little disheveled. It looked like he'd thrown on his clothes, which probably meant he'd been asleep.

"Saw your light was on. Can't sleep?" he asked, looking her in the eye. They hadn't really spoken since her announcement that she was leaving the school. Her last six weeks would've been lonely if it weren't for Steve's texts.

"Trying to write. Not succeeding," Eliza shrugged, "I guess you could call that sleeplessness."

"C'mon," he said, jerking his head down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. Eliza followed, even though she knew he would probably try to lecture her into staying. Again.

The halls were quiet at this hour of the night save for a few loud snores from behind the students' doors. Their walk was quiet, and the kitchen was empty. Logan reached up to a cabinet above the fridge and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two lowball glasses.

"Rocks or neat?" he asked as she took a seat at the kitchen island. She requested rocks and he put ice in one glass before filling it and sliding it over to her. He took his whiskey neat.

They each took a sip and Eliza relished the smooth burn down her throat. "It still doesn't seem real," she said contemplatively.

"What doesn't?"

"The fact that it's my last night here. That I spent any time here at all, actually. That I got to meet and teach so many incredible kids. That Erik was exactly the person I needed to find. I think in some weird way, we all…belong here, you know? For a time, at least. I mean, the kids come and go, I assume the staff does as well," she rambled before taking another sip.

Tomorrow Logan would take over the last month of her classes and she would be on her way back to New York. Since Tony spent most of his time in California these days, Eliza would take over his floor of the Avengers Tower. Her job at Columbia was gone, but she had already decided to start a new novel.

Not that she had any idea about what that novel would be about, but when had that ever stopped a writer?

"Guess I can understand that. Always thought there was something weird about this place, but when you put it like that…your time here is up then."

Eliza looked at him. His dark eyes were unfocused, but his features were set. He had finally accepted that she had to leave, even if he wouldn't look at her.

"I'll come visit," she offered weakly, "when I can."

Part of her wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, his bicep, his hand, some small act to show him that she meant what she said, but he beat her to it. He rested his heavy hand on her forearm and said "I know."

She took another sip of whiskey and couldn't deny the warmth of his hand. It reminded her of the warmth she'd found in him once she'd finally broken through his rough exterior. Their one try at dating had gone horribly awry, and even though they never talked about it she could tell he was disappointed that it hadn't worked out.

He had been her closest confidante at the school, always willing to listen to her whine about Erik and his lessons while she helped him with one of the many vehicles in the garage. She listened to him talk about how much he wanted Jean and how much he and Scott butted heads. He'd taken care of her with Storm's help the previous fall when she'd gotten the flu. She would use her powers to help him in the garage.

"We're both damaged. Fucked up by some genetic mishap, then experimented on. You're a reminder that I'm not alone. And that's a nice thing to have some times," he'd told her once when she'd been pestering him about why he softened to her when he held everyone else at the school at a distance.

The whiskey had done its job. Eliza's head felt heavy with sleep now, and she rested her temple against Logan's shoulder. He didn't tense at the contact like he did with others, he simply let her be.

"Thank you, Logan. For everything," she said, fighting back a yawn.

"Anytime, Eliza."

XXXXX

The next afternoon Eliza was back in the city. She stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows on her floor of Avengers Tower - really her brother's, but they shared genetics so they could share a floor of a tower - and marveled at the skyline she hadn't seen in nearly two years. A few new buildings had popped up since she left, and the damage of the Chutari invasion was erased completely.

What she'd forgotten about was the noise. Traffic, people, the occasional siren. After two years of living in a stately mansion with Jane Austen-like grounds, it seemed like she'd gotten used to a certain level of quiet.

Being back in the city was a bit surreal, to say the least.

Part of her wanted to move back into her brownstone in the Village. It was at least a little quieter there, but then she would be alone. She'd grown accustomed to having people around her, and the ghost of her attack still lingered whenever she had too big a space to herself.

If she got spooked at the tower, all she had to do was take the elevator two floors down and Steve would answer his door.

"Miss Stark? Your brother is requesting your presence up on the party deck to discuss your real estate holdings," JARVIS said, interrupting her thoughts. She thanked the AI and headed toward the elevator, wondering why Tony would choose now to discuss real estate. It was a strange request, but she didn't think much of it as the elevator rose.

She got off the elevator and nearly had a heart attack as the lights turned on and no less that fifteen voices shouted, "Surprise!"

Panicking, Eliza had picked up the nearest metal object with her powers and hurled it at the voices. She ended up throwing a coffee table into Thor's stomach, but the larger-than-life god was good humored about it and had graciously brushed off her apologies.

"Perhaps you and I can spar sometimes and make it a fair fight, eh?" the blonde man had said before clapping her on the back - which nearly toppled her over and she swore she heard a 'crack' as her spine realigned. "It's nice to officially meet you, Eliza. This is Jane Foster, my human girlfriend," he said, gesturing to the woman next to him.

"I don't know if the human part needed specification, but it's nice to meet you," Jane said, shaking Eliza's hand. She was pretty, all long brown hair and big brown eyes. In another life, she could've been a ballerina instead of an astrophysicist.

"Same here," she agreed, eyes scanning the room for another swath of blonde hair. She didn't see it and she could feel the disappointment settle in her stomach. Maybe a drink would help with that?

As she turned to head over to the bar, a hand shot out and handed her a gin and tonic.

The hand was attached to the long, muscular arm of Steve Rogers, who looked down at her with a light smile. "Gin and tonic. That's still your drink of choice, I expect?"

"Steve," she breathed.

"Welcome back, Eliza," he said as he bent to kiss her left cheek and she accepted the drink from his hand. She wanted to say more, but she was mobbed by two very enthusiastic gays a second later. Brown curls and bright red locks bombarded her view of the super soldier and her rib cage was crushed in two pairs of arms.

"You are not allowed to leave town ever again!" Desmond declared, "not without our permission, do you understand?"

The couple let go of Eliza and she laughed breathlessly, looking around for Steve but he had disappeared again. Then she took stock of her attack-huggers. Namir and Desmond looked exactly the same as they had before she left, save for the silver bands around each of their ring fingers. Eliza gaped at Namir, and he nodded.

"That's what happens when you disappear," Namir said, his words gentle but the meaning behind them making her insides squirm. She'd missed so much, including her best friends' wedding. Namir raised her chin with his finger and made her make eye contact, "It's okay. You'll be here for the next big thing."

"And all the big things after that," she promised, hugging him around the chest. He patted her hair and hugged her back.

"Desmond brought his chocolate tart," he whispered and she gasped, dropping out of the hug and throwing herself at Desmond, demanding he lead her to the tart immediately.

The party continued in much the same fashion. Ray had sent her a video message from his house in the Florida Keys, where he had retired after being released from the hospital. Damon went down there on his school breaks, and he'd been dating a nice waitress from his local greasy spoon for a few months. His leg bothered him on occasion, and his hands got a little stiff but otherwise he was healthy as a horse.

She didn't get more than a few lingering glances from Steve while she was making the rounds. Eventually they wound up on the same sofa and Eliza could actually talk to him.

"So you're back," he said, "how's it feel?"

She took a sip of her third (or fourth?) gin and tonic and leaned her head on her hand, propping her elbow up on the back of the sofa. "It's a little...surreal."

"Surreal?"

"Just realizing what I've missed while I was gone. All of my friends kept living their lives while I was away and...just thinking that there was a chunk of their lives that I missed, I don't know. It feels weird." She realized she probably wasn't making a whole lot of sense, but the gin had started to kick in.

Steve twisted to face her and mirrored her posture, his elbow on the back of the sofa, one hand holding his head while he nursed his drink with the other. "I know exactly what you mean. Any big plans now that you're back?"

Eliza's cheeks burned. She'd clearly forgotten who she was talking to. Steve had missed sixty, seventy years? Most of his friends had lived full lives and then died of old age while he was gone. All she'd missed could easily be made up over the next few years. It wasn't that easy for Steve.

Before she could continue, Tony plopped himself down between Steve and Eliza and patted both of their knees. "How are things going here?"

"Fine, Tony," she said, dropping her leg and sitting properly on the sofa.

"Jarvis wasn't lying, I do wanna talk to you about real estate. Mostly what t odo with your house in the Village," Tony's breath smelled of whiskey and Eliza wasn't surprised that he didn't appear drunk. Tony had the constitution of an ox - it took much more than a few drinks to get him looking for a lampshade to wear.

"We don't have to talk about that n-"

"After you absconded I had a bunch of movers put your stuff in boxes. They'll be here tomorrow with it so you can fix up the Stark floor the way you want it."

"Don't you want a say in the decor?" Eliza asked her brother, who simply waved her off.

"I'm barely here, and when I am I live in the lab," he dismissed. "The apartment is yours to do with what you wish."

"Thanks, Tony," she said even though she already knew that. The sun was starting to descend over the Manhattan skyline and Eliza looked around. Only the Avengers were left - Thor, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce Banner. The civilians had trickled out over the last few hours, and now Thor was entertaining the rest of them with tales of Asgard. The large man gesticulated wildly, his beer sloshing dangerously over the side of his mug. Eliza didn't mind. She even found it comforting - this was how her life would be now. Surrounded by superhumans. The thought occurred to her that she was one of them - she had superhuman powers of her own, her father and brother had seen to that.

"Eliza?" Steve asked from the other side of Tony.

"Huh?"

"You didn't answer the good cap's question. I didn't raise you to be rude," Tony teased and Eliza shot him a glare.

"Yes you did," she countered.

"Oh right."

Steve interrupted them, "What are you going to do now that you're back?"

"Right. I think I'm going to start a new novel, actually," she said. "All I need is an idea."

"Ugh, I'm bored with this now. Later, losers," Tony said, a hand on each of their knees that were closest to him and hauling himself up. Eliza watched him go and figured that the alcohol had finally started to hit him. Momentarily worrying for her brother's liver, Eliza turned her full attention back to Steve and resumed her previous position.

"Y'know, speaking as a fan I think another novel is a great idea. And if you need someone to proof your pages, I'm just a short elevator ride away," Steve mentioned, not trying to look as excited as the prospect made him. He smiled and Eliza found it infectious as she smiled as well.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said.

XXXXX

The next morning, Eliza woke up to a few loud thuds from her living room area. Panic gripped her chest before she remembered that she was in Avengers tower, that she was safe. Pulling on a robe, she walked out and saw no fewer than six big, burly movers in the open plan living space. Two were carrying the couch from her brownstone into the area, two were carrying the one Tony had picked out, and the other two had three boxes each - all of them marked 'Books', and she was glad they were wearing protective hernia belts.

"Morning, sunshine!" Tony shouted from the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hand. "Told you I'd have the movers bring all your crap."

"I didn't doubt you on that," she said, wandering over to the kitchen and reaching for the coffee pot which was - thankfully - full.

"Did you want to keep the brownstone? I know you and Alex put a lot of work into it, but I figured since your attack..."

Eliza paused and put the coffee pot back, not looking at her brother. She hadn't been back there since she was attacked - the ghost of it still haunted her. But other ghosts lived there too. Alex, his sandy hair white with drywall dust, making ribald jokes about christening every room in the house once the renovation was done. Arguing over the layout of the first floor - which was better for faculty dinner parties, an open plan or a kitchen island? How Alex insisted on doing most of the work themselves. They'd appreciate it more that way, he said.

"No," she sighed, swallowing the memories. "you made the right call. I'll contact a realtor about it today. Thanks for everything, Tony."

Tony put a hand on her shoulder. "No problem, Eliza."

XXXXX

It was dark when Eliza paused, but the apartment definitely felt more like home. She'd unpacked all of her clothes into the master bedroom's walk in closet, put all her books on the bookshelves, all of her cookware in the kitchen, and she still wasn't half done.

Her stomach grumbled angrily, as if it would no longer be ignored, and she had JARVIS order Chinese food for her. She sat waiting for it and going through an old box of junk on her couch. An early copy of her first novel, a bunch of journals, some tchochkes from her various boarding schools, and a bunch of DVDs labeled 'Peggy, 1963,' 'Peggy, 1995,' and 'Peggy Carter, 1982.'

It had been ages since she'd seen her Aunt Peggy, her father's best friend. And Steve's...whatever they'd been. She slid the disc marked 1995 in the player and there she was, all perfectly pinned curls and impeccable lipstick even at seventy-something.

"This isn't my first interview about Steve Rogers, and it probably won't be the last," she said in her comforting British accent. Eliza listened to Peggy for a good hour, as she recounted her travels and adventures with Steve, and her adventures since. The workings of the SSR after Steve's disappearance, the kidnapping of Howard Stark, the founding of SHIELD.

Eliza's gut lurched. She hadn't seen Peggy in so long, mostly because of the memory issues the older woman was having. The vivacious, vibrant Peggy of her past had almost disappeared and Eliza couldn't bear to watch as Peggy's light flickered in and out. It caused her no small amount of guilt.

As she watched, something clicked into place in Eliza's brain. She grabbed one of the old journals and a pen, flipped to a blank page, and started taking wild notes before the idea could expire and disappear forever. Then, once the basic idea was out of her head she started taking notes on what Peggy was saying.

Her Chinese food was cold by the time she got around to it, but she had her next novel.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**HELLO! **

**I want you all to know that I haven't given up this story, or Eliza, but I did start grad school and that takes up a LOT of my time and imagination. I'll be publishing as often as I can, but it might be slow going. **

**That being said, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your continued support, and please take a few minutes to leave a comment about this chapter/story in general. **


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